


Midnight Angel (Won't You Say You Will)

by Area5150



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Driving, Friends to Lovers, Healing Sex, Id Fic, Knifeplay, Masturbation, Other, Partners to Lovers, Porn with Feelings, Rescue, Robot/Human Relationships, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Area5150/pseuds/Area5150
Summary: Garthe is back from the dead and out for revenge. Michael needs rescuing, physically and emotionally. Fortunately he's got his own knight in shining armor.
Relationships: KITT/Michael Knight (1982)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 29





	Midnight Angel (Won't You Say You Will)

**Author's Note:**

> Garthe telling Michael "You're gonna be mine" in "Goliath" gave me _ideas_ , and for some reason I decided I should write them down. This is more id candy than serious exploration of trauma recovery, so please proceed accordingly. 
> 
> I've taken some fairly substantial dramatic license with the effects of sedatives and EMP but hopefully it's not too much more ludicrous than anything that actually happened on the show.
> 
> Title is from "Shadows of the Night" by Pat Benatar.

_Damn it, not again_ , Michael thought, swimming back to consciousness through a drugged, sludgy haze. There was an uncomfortable strain on his arms and a prickling numbness in his hands. He tried to move his arms and felt metal cuffs biting into his wrists. He opened his eyes, and saw concrete. There was a crick in his neck. He moved his head and then had to close his eyes again as the room spun. 

His recollection came in fragments. A smoky bar, a Dolly Parton song twanging on the jukebox, a buxom brunette licking her lips and a beer with a bitter aftertaste that he noticed a second too late.

"KITT," he called, his voice sounding cracked and strange. 

"He's not coming," growled a familiar voice behind him. "He's sitting in the parking lot of that dive bar with his processor melted to slag. And now it's your turn to be melted down."

Michael's eyes snapped open and he strained to turn his head. Several things became immediately apparent: he was in an empty warehouse, he was hanging upright from a set of shackles, and Garthe Knight was alive, well, and not nearly as waterlogged as he'd been the last time Michael had seen him.

"Surprised, Brother?" 

"Guess I'll have to drop you off a higher cliff next time." Michael straightened his legs, taking some of the pressure off his wrists. He heard the clank of chains and looked down to see another set of manacles on his ankles. 

Garthe stepped in front of him, smirking. He was dressed in his signature bad-guy-in-a-low-budget-sci-fi-movie black ensemble, with a Ka-bar knife in a sheath on one hip and a gun with a copper coil for a barrel and a ring of capacitors for a cylinder in a holster on the other. "There won't be a next time. Not for you. Without your little toy, you're less than nothing."

"If you did any permanent damage to him, you're gonna wish you'd stayed on the bottom of the ocean." He looked up at his wrist and saw the empty space where his comlink should have been. 

"Keep barking like a neutered dog on a short leash." Garthe drew his knife. "You'll be using your tongue to beg me for mercy soon enough." 

"I highly doubt it." Michael jerked down on the chains, hoping for some give in the bolt. He was disappointed. 

"I greatly appreciate your arrogance." Garthe grabbed the collar of Michael's shirt and slashed the knife down, slicing it open. "It will make it so much more satisfying when I break you so badly you forget your stolen name."

"You're gonna have a long damn wait if you want me to satisfy you." Michael tried not to notice the way his pulse was quickening as Garthe pulled his torn shirt aside and ran the point of the knife around his nipple. 

"Maybe not as long as you think." Garthe drew the knife down Michael's torso, just on the edge of breaking the skin. 

Michael clenched his teeth, forced himself to steady his breathing. _Keep him talking. Just keep him talking._ "You know, if you wanted to get me drunk, tie me up and rip my clothes off you could at least buy me a steak first."

Garthe raised the knife and pressed the point under Michael's chin. "Watch your impudent mouth. Unless you want me to find another use for it." 

"Blah, blah, blah. I got my gourd split in Da Nang and my face shot off in Vegas. I hate to break it to you, but you're not the scariest thing that's ever happened to me."

Garthe smiled. "We'll see about that." He grabbed the waistband of Michael's jeans, slicing through his belt and laying the denim open to the crease of his hip. 

Michael bit back a gasp. Garthe had missed some of his favorite body parts by a fraction of an inch. "You're gonna have to do more than mess up my wardrobe to freak me out, guy." He inwardly winced at how unsteady his voice sounded. 

"I know." Garthe shoved Michael's jeans and briefs down and ran the tip of the knife teasingly over his cock. 

Michael clenched his teeth against an inarticulate yell, and swallowed a torrent of profanity as he felt himself getting hard. Apparently his cock had learned to respond a certain way when someone ripped his jeans open and stroked it, and it didn't much care who or how.

"Just as I expected," Garthe's smile was sharper and colder than the knife in his hand. "You relish the thought of submitting to me."

Michael forced himself to laugh, and the manic sound echoed in the empty room. "You know how these things just have a mind of their own." He winked. "Or maybe you don't. You know what they say about guys who drive big trucks." He was rewarded with a backhand to the face and Garthe's hand around his throat.

"Make your smart remarks while you can. When I'm having you, you will beg me to stop, and then you'll beg me for more."

_This is not happening. This is not fucking happening._ Michael bit the inside of his cheek, trying to force himself to focus. _Come on, Long._ Knight. _You can get out of this._ _There's gotta be a way out of this._ He strained against the shackles. Garthe's fingers were pressing the chain of his homing signal medallion into his skin, and then a ray of hope flashed like a lighthouse in a storm. "Hey, Garthe," he gasped. "You like that necklace? It was a gift from your dear old dad. He said something about me being the son he never had."

With a primal snarl, Garthe grabbed the medallion and yanked it from Michael's neck, snapping the chain and hurling it across the room. 

_KITT, buddy, if that worked and you're OK, I'll never complain about your jokes again._

Garthe's hand was clenching around Michael's neck again, the point of his knife just below Michael's eye. "You are not my father's son. You are a walking corpse that got dragged off the garbage pile and turned into the Foundation's slave, just like that heap of scrap metal you love so much. You're nothing but a tool, a thing to be used, and I am going to use you in every way possible." He let go, leaving Michael to gasp for breath.

_Come on, KITT. I know you're out there somewhere. You gotta be._

Garthe moved behind him, ripping at the collar of Michael's shirt and using the knife to shred what was left of it. He ran the knife point up Michael's spine and whispered in his ear, "When I'm through with you, there won't be an inch of your skin that doesn't burn with the memory of my touch. You'll crave the agony of being split open by me, because it's all you'll know. You'll fall to your knees and worship me with that impertinent mouth. And when I've had my fill of you, if you tell me how much you enjoyed being taken by me, maybe I'll let you live as my plaything."

"Dream on." Michael whipped his head back, feeling a painful but satisfying crack as he struck what he hoped was Garthe's nose.

Garthe stumbled back, roaring. Another sharp burst of pain flared across the back of Michael's skull as Garthe struck him with the hilt of the knife. "Just for that, I'm going to hurt you when I'm done enjoying you. Do you know how much flesh can be stripped off the body before shock sets in?"

Michael's ears were ringing and he wondered distractedly how hard Garthe had hit him. Underneath Garthe's rambling there was a low buzzing in his head and for a second he thought he could hear his name. 

_Michael?_

Was his mind playing tricks on him? It sounded like KITT's voice inside his head. "KITT?"

"He can't help you," said Garthe. "No one can."

"Don't you ever shut the hell up?" Michael muttered.

_I beg your pardon?_

"Not you, buddy." 

_Is now a good time for a dramatic entrance?_

"Oh, yeah. I need you, KITT. I need you _bad_."

"You're pathetic," Garthe growled, his fingers digging into Michael's hip. There was the rip of a zipper opening. "He isn't going to save you. You're _mine_."

Michael heard the rev of a turbine engine outside the warehouse's door and it felt like a dove taking wing in his heart. Or maybe a Firebird. "Yeah? Sounds like KITT wants to fight you for my honor." 

"What-?" Garthe's hand shoved Michael as far as the chains would allow and then the front wall of the warehouse exploded with the force of nearly two tons of high-tech polymer and state-of-the-art circuitry and good old Detroit steel. 

Michael swayed off balance as KITT sprung the cuffs. Garthe was raising that weird Buck Rogers gun and there wasn't time to think, just lace his numb fingers together and launch himself at Garthe, swinging his hands like a club into the small of Garthe's back. Michael stumbled as his pants caught around his thighs but before he went down painfully on his knees he saw Garthe's shot go wild and Garthe reel into KITT's path. There was a squeal, a thump and a scream and when Michael looked up, he saw Garthe lying several feet away, one of his legs twisted at an unnatural angle. 

"Is he dead?" Michael gasped, dragging himself to his feet and hitching up his ruined pants. 

"No. I 'pulled my punch,' as one says. He has multiple fractures and contusions, but he should survive."

"Too bad." He found the gun where Garthe had dropped it. One of the capacitors had broken loose. He kicked it halfway across the warehouse just in case, then staggered the short distance to collapse over KITT's hood, pressing a kiss to the sleek black shell. "Boy, am I glad to see you."

"Are you all right, Michael? My sensors detect a hematoma on the back of your head and your pulse rate and adrenaline levels are nearly off the chart."

"Yeah. Another ten seconds and I would've been starring in a low budget remake of _Deliverance_ but I'm okay. Now." _Now that you're here._

"I don't understand your reference."

"I'll tell you later." _Much later._ "Are _you_ all right?"

"I'm fine, Michael. For the most part. I apologize for the delay in locating you. When I saw that your abductors intended to use an electromagnetic pulse weapon against me, I calculated that my odds of recovering in time to rescue you were better if I forced a hard restart to protect my systems. I was able to avoid significant damage but my short term memory was erased before I could store the electromechanical signature of their van. All I could do was drive a grid pattern scanning for your vital signs until the homing signal brought me to you." 

"It's okay, buddy. You were here when it counted." He closed his eyes, letting the reassuring rumble of KITT's engine wash over him, feeling like he could happily pass out on his partner's solid warmth.

"Michael?"

"Hmm?"

"You appear to be entering the adrenal fatigue phase. I believe you'll be more comfortable, in addition to more easily transported, inside me rather than on my hood."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Michael murmured against KITT's hood. He hauled himself up, steadying himself with one hand on KITT's body as he made his way to the open door and collapsed into the driver's seat. 

KITT closed the door behind him and he punched the manual control button, clenching his hands on the steering yoke and staring out the windshield at Garthe's crumpled form. His foot hovered over the accelerator.

"Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"You're in no shape to drive. I'm switching back to automatic."

"Okay," Michael sighed. He slumped back in the seat, letting his hands drop. KITT's upholstery felt gentle and soft against the bare skin of his back. He curled tighter into the seat, turning on his side to wrap his arm around the seat back and press his face to the velvety fabric. The cushions warmed against him as KITT engaged the seat heater.

"It's all right, Michael. You're safe now."

***

He'd stayed in the shower until his fingertips had gotten pruney, then pulled on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and fallen into bed, certain he'd pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. But as heavy as his eyelids felt, his brain wouldn't stop replaying the low growl of Garthe's words in his ear and the sharp drag of the knife point on his skin and the clench of Garthe's fingertips on his hip. Finally he kicked the sheets off and sat up, looking out the window at the tree branches waving languidly in the breeze, illuminated by the light of the full moon. Even with the window open, the air in the room felt heavy and hot. 

Michael rubbed his fingers over the comlink on his wrist. Normally he took it off when he slept, but tonight he'd started to take it off and then put it back on when his wrist felt naked without it. "KITT?" he whispered into it. There wasn't really any need to whisper; KITT didn't sleep in the human sense of the word, but Michael felt like it was only polite not to startle him if he was in the middle of synchronizing his database or whatever else he did during his downtime. 

"Yes, Michael?"

"You up for a drive?"

"Always, Michael."

***

"You seem agitated. Would you rather I drove?"

"No." Michael shook his head. "I just... I need this."

"As you wish. Where are we going?"

"I don't know. I'll know when we get there." Michael reached for the Super Pursuit Mode button.

"I'm not sure that's -" KITT gave up his protest as Michael pushed the button. Vents opened, spoilers lifted and turbines screamed as the speedometer ticked up past 250. "Who or what are we chasing?"

"I don't know," said Michael, his hands gripping the steering yoke. "Maybe we're not chasing anything." _Maybe we're running from something._

***

Where they were going turned out to be an access road off a no-services exit somewhere out by Palm Desert. Michael pulled off into the scrub, cut the engine and opened the T-top, leaning his seat back to stare up at the stars. 

"Michael, are you all right?"

"You can get inside my head, you tell me." The words came out sounding sharper than he'd intended and he reached over to pat KITT's center console. "That _did_ really happen, right? Or am I losing my mind?"

"Your mind appears to be in the usual place, at least in the physical sense. But yes, I was able to communicate with you by using my VHF transmitter to resonate with the metal plate in your skull, similar to how humans sometimes receive radio signals on the metal fillings in their teeth. It wasn't telepathy or any other paranormal means."

"Oh." Michael watched a satellite flicker overhead. "You gonna make a habit out of that?"

"Not as long as you have your comlink on. It's a much more reliable and efficient system, with fewer potential adverse effects." 

"Don't worry, I don't think I'm ever willingly taking it off again."

KITT was silent for a moment. "Michael, did I do the right thing by not attempting to immediately apprehend your abductors?"

Michael traced his fingers over the grain of the armrest. "From what you told me, absolutely. If you'd gotten your circuits fried, it might have taken Bonnie ten hours to fix you, and I didn't have ten minutes to spare before Garthe..." His throat clenched on the rest of the sentence as if Garthe's hand was around his neck. 

When KITT spoke, there was a hesitant quality to his voice that Michael didn't often hear. "Michael... while Bonnie was inspecting me for damage, I accessed the periodical database to research what you said to me in the warehouse. _Deliverance_ was a 1972 film directed by John Boorman, most notorious for a scene depicting forcible sexual intercourse between two men." He paused, and Michael got the idea that he might be trying to find the right words. "Michael, you know you can tell me anything."

Michael shook his head, feeling his lips twist into a rueful half-smile. "There's nothing to tell. Not really. If you hadn't gotten there when you did, I think there would've been, but..." He rubbed his eyes, which were suddenly feeling hot and prickly. "I don't know why this is messing me up so bad. It's not even close to the worst thing that's ever happened to me." He ran his hand through his hair, and then gripped the headrest. "All he really did was run his mouth and feel me up with his knife. It was just... being chained up like that, it was like..."

"Like being stuck on a hydraulic lift with a mechanic of questionable morals fumbling at your undercarriage?"

Michael snickered. "Yeah, something like that." He squeezed the headrest. "Thanks for coming to my rescue." He was expecting some kind of "knight in shining armor " comment in response, but KITT was silent. "You okay, buddy?"

"Michael..." That hesitation was back in KITT's voice. "Would you think less of me if I told you that there was a part of me that didn't want to hit the brakes when I realized I was on a collision course with Garthe?"

Michael shook his head. "Nope. Would you think less of me if I told you there was a part of me that hoped he'd get up so I could finish the job?"

"No. But you aren't programmed not to take human life." KITT paused. "What am I turning into?"

Michael's hand went back to the console, stroking softly. "A person."

"Oh dear. I don't know if that's within acceptable parameters at all."

Michael sat up to look KITT in the sensors. "KITT. Buddy. You're not just some -"

_(slave)_

_(tool)_

_(thing to be used)_

"- some collection of circuits. You've never been that. You have feelings, whether you want to or not. And people who have feelings get pretty pissed off when somebody hurts somebody they love." The word was out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. "Uh, I mean. You know. The way good buddies love each other. Not that you're. You know. _In love_ with me. Uh." He rested his hand on the steering yoke. "Are you?"

"How would I know if I were?"

"Well, it's... hard to explain. You just know."

"From my observation of both individual humans and popular media, it appears that one person is said to be in love with another when that person prioritizes the object of their affection over all other things, including their own morality, safety or existence."

"That's... yeah, that's one way to put it." 

"So it would appear that I am."

"Maybe," Michael smiled, leaning down to rest his head on the yoke and wondering if he should be a little more freaked out by KITT telling him he was in love with him. Maybe he'd just hit his freakiness quota for today. Whatever awkward conversations might be in their future seemed as nebulous and far away as the lights of LA from Banning Pass on a smoggy night. 

"Do you think anyone will ever love me?"

"We all love you, KITT." He patted the side of the yoke. 

"You do?"

"Sure. You're smart, a good conversationalist, a loyal friend and you've got a smokin' hot body. What's not to love?"

"Thank you, Michael. You're not so bad yourself."

Still smiling, Michael planted an exaggerated kiss on the top of the yoke, then leaned his seat back again and closed his eyes, listening to the pulse of his own heartbeat in the stillness of the desert night. 

***

"This unit has a defect in its sensory response." A disembodied voice. Bonnie's voice. "If it can't be recalibrated, it will have to be decommissioned."

He snapped his eyes open, looking around wildly for KITT. "Bonnie, what?" There was nobody else in the sterile white room. He was lying on an exam table, cold metal under his bare skin.

"Leave it to me." He recognized that voice. Adrianne? Bianca? How had she gotten in here? What the hell was going on? 

He tried to sit up and plastic straps dug into his wrists. "KITT? KITT!" He jerked his left arm, trying fruitlessly to reach his comlink. "I need you, buddy! I need you now!"

"Shhhh." A soft hand on his lips. He almost bit the slender fingers before they trailed down his neck. "All you have to do is perform to specifications, Lieutenant Long."

"I'm not - " Her hand was moving lower, teasing him, stroking him hard, and he didn't want to get hard, not for her, not like this. "KITT! Where are you?"

"He's not coming. You're all alone and you're all mine." A low whisper against his ear. He turned his head but there was nobody there.

"Michael!" KITT's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Michael jerked awake, gasping for breath, one hand clenched on the door handle, the other flailing at empty space. His jeans were uncomfortably tight. 

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just a bad dream." He yanked his jacket off and bunched it over his lap. Not that KITT had never seen or heard him getting hot and bothered before, but it had never been quite like this and he didn't particularly want to try and explain it when he couldn't even make sense of it himself. 

"Your biometry is ambiguous. Are my scanners malfunctioning?"

Michael closed his eyes, then opened them again, staring up at the endless field of stars. "Your scanners are fine." _I'm the one who's malfunctioning._

"Michael, you seem to be in a state of extreme agitation. May I try something? An attempt to physically calm you?"

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, trying to make his erection less obvious, even though that was almost certainly what was ambiguous about his biometry. "Yeah. Sure."

"It won't hurt." 

Michael felt the warm glow of KITT's seat heater concentrated against his shoulder blade, then moving slowly in a line down his back, stopping just above his belt and trailing back up. "Mmm, that is nice." 

"Good."

Michael's hand unclenched on the door handle, sliding down to rest on the armrest. He tried to ignore his still-hard cock. KITT's... _caresses_... were making him feel warm and limp all over except _there_ and what the hell was he doing getting turned on by his car? Then again, compared to what else had been turning him on recently, maybe there was nowhere to go but up. He groaned and put his other arm over his eyes. 

"Is this causing you distress?" The glowing touch paused. 

"No. It's good. A little too good."

"What do you mean?" 

"Nothing. Don't stop." When he felt KITT's warm strokes sweep up his spine, he let his arm drop to his side, brushing his knuckles over the console. His hand found its way to the center keypad, tracing idly over the buttons. A question it might not have occurred to him to ask on any other day suddenly flared in his mind. "KITT, can you feel it when I touch you?"

"Not the way organic lifeforms do, but I perceive the contact and process it as positive feedback." 

He ran his fingertips down to the pad of the console. "So this is okay with you?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because..." Michael tried to find the right words for something he'd never really articulated, even to himself. It wasn't like he'd gotten a signed and notarized form from every woman he'd ever kissed (or more). But women made it pretty obvious when his attentions were welcome (and when they weren't). A car, even a sentient one, didn't give coy glances or suggestive touches... did it? "Well... I never really asked if you liked it."

"The sensation is analogous to pleasure, yes."

"Okay, well, if you're ever not in the mood, tell me, okay?" His fingers stroked in light spirals on the console. 

"Certainly, Michael. But I'm always in the mood for you." 

Michael smiled. "Thanks, buddy. I'm flattered. But you don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do. Even for me."

"There is very little I don't want to do for you, Michael." 

He _had_ to be imagining the velvety invitation in those words. "I know." His hand stilled on KITT's console. "I just wish I could be sure that's a hundred percent _you_ talking, not just your programming."

"Michael, my programming _is_ me. You might just as easily wonder if your feelings are really you or a chemical reaction in your brain. Does it matter, as long as they're real to you?" 

"I don't know." He sat up, putting his hands on the steering yoke, tracing his thumbs up the grips. "But I don't want to take advantage of you or use you or..." He swallowed hard, made himself say the words. "Force you to do anything. Ever."

"Michael, _please._ Despite my relatively short chronological existence, I'm not naive, nor am I incapable of defending myself. And you are most certainly not Garthe Knight." 

Michael sighed, letting his hands drop to his knees. "So you know. What happened to me in there."

"Given the physical state you were in when I arrived, I could make an educated guess." KITT turned the seat heater on all the way, replicating the warm embrace he'd given Michael in the warehouse. "Michael, having a physical reaction to a forced stimulus is as different from a consensual encounter as Adrianne and Randy's hijacking was to me opening my door and letting you take my controls." 

"Yeah, I know." Michael closed his eyes. "In my head, I know that. I just... can't stop thinking about it. The only thing that takes my mind off it is..." He opened his eyes and reached up to run his fingertip over KITT's voice synthesizer. "You." 

"Michael, I'm here for anything you need. _Anything_." 

He was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the suggestion in KITT's voice this time, or at least his cock was pretty sure. And what the hell was he doing even _thinking_ about it? He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the yoke and covering his face with his hands. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Aside from a slightly elevated pulse and respiration rate, I don't detect anything wrong with you."

"And the fact that I have a raging hard on for my car, and that's not even the _most_ fucked up thing I've gotten turned on by today?" He tossed his jacket into the passenger's seat, letting KITT see exactly what effect his maybe-not-completely-innocent words were having on him. 

"There's nothing about your current physical state that's outside of normal parameters." 

A laugh that teetered on the edge of hysteria tore loose from his throat. "Buddy, maybe your database has a glitch, but normal humans don't get horny for cars. No matter how hot they are." 

"Normal humans don't have cars like me."  
  
"I don't think they could handle you." His laughter subsided to a soft chuckle and he lifted his head to look at KITT's voice box. "What are we doing, buddy?" He reached out to run his hand over the dash. "Are you really offering what I think you are?"

"I'm offering you myself, Michael. In whatever way you want me."

And god _damn_ it, how did those words spoken in KITT's meticulous Bostonian accent send a thrill straight from his heart to his cock? "KITT." His fingers played over the instrument panels, traced over the angles of the steering yoke. "What I think I want right now isn't something I can ask you for."

"Michael, you take me into situations of near-certain destruction for both of us on a regular basis. I accompany you without complaint, or at least without resistance, because it's what I was built for. If you can trust me with your life, you can trust me with this, whatever you want _this_ to be."

"Aw, KITT." He rested his palm on the center of the yoke, stroking softly with his thumb. "You're my partner, and I love ya. But getting both of us hurt for truth, justice and the American way is one thing, and doing it just because I want to get my rocks off is something totally different. Your body may be bulletproof but your heart isn't and neither is mine."

"Michael." KITT ran a stroke of the seat heater up Michael's back. "Do you really believe it could ever be that simple, or sordid, between us? We were quite literally made for each other. You're everything to me. I'll be everything to you... if you'll have me."

Michael had a sudden, irrepressible urge to hug this incredible, impossible car who, despite having a computer for a brain and a jet engine for a heart, managed to be so much more human than some people he could mention. He settled for wrapping his arm around the steering column and leaning in to rest his cheek against KITT's voice synthesizer. "Where do we go from here?" he asked softly.

"Are you asking in the geographical or metaphorical sense?"

Michael smiled, stroking the grip of the yoke in a way that had never felt quite so Freudian before. "I mean I know what I'm doing with women. Or at least I've never had any complaints. I don't have a road map for... wherever I'm going with you."

"Perhaps we should just drive and see where we end up."

"Perhaps we should." Michael sat up, and his fingers found the ignition switch. As the indicators clicked on and KITT's engine roared to life, suddenly the uncharted road ahead didn't seem unfamiliar at all. 

"See? You _do_ know how to turn me on," KITT said, a smile in his voice. 

Michael laughed, feeling like a storm cloud had broken in his chest and golden light was streaming through. "You too," he grinned, squeezing the shift knob as he dropped the transmission into Drive and floored the gas pedal. "You like that, buddy?" He stroked the shifter with his thumb, feeling the raw power of the engine reverberating through every part of him.

"More than anything."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the edge of the dash. "Tell me how much."

"Oh, Michael." KITT's voice sounded like cybernetic sin. "I love the feel of you in my driver's seat, completing me. I love the way your hands grip me, taking me wherever you want me to go."

"Oh, _yeah._ " Michael brushed his fingertips down the achingly tight zipper of his jeans as the engine roared louder and the speedometer flashed triple digits. 

"I love the way you push me to my limits until my turbines are screaming and my gearbox is throbbing."

"Mmm..." Michael's finger teased over the Turbo Boost button. 

"And just when I'm burning so white-hot I feel like I'm on the edge of a meltdown, you touch me in just the right place and I _take off_."

"Oh, _yeah!_ " Michael hit the Turbo Boost and gave a primal yell as they soared into the air, flying weightless for those ecstatic seconds before they slammed back onto the road in a screech of rubber. "Was it good for you too, buddy?" he grinned, running his hand over the dash. 

" _Exquisite,_ Michael."

"Mmm... _you're_ exquisite." His hand slid over the video panel and down to rest on the gearshift. "Every time I see you across the parking lot, I'm floored by how gorgeous you are." He stroked his hand up and down the stick slowly, the way he would stroke himself. "I love it when you get dirty on a mission and I have an excuse to get you wet and put my hands all over you." He gripped the knob, tracing his thumb around the button and feeling his own cock pulse. "The way you look when I'm done... I could stare at you all day. But the only thing better than looking at you is getting inside you and getting your motor running." He squeezed the shifter, and maybe it was just the vibration of the road but he felt it quiver in his hand. "Love the way you feel around me, holding me like you were made for me, because you were." He dropped his hand to his lap, touching himself as roughly as he dared if he wanted to make this last. Electric-blue shivers were already starting to hum at the base of his cock as he arched his hips against his hand. "When I get you out on the road and open you up, all that power pulsing under your hood, and all it takes is one touch from me to let you loose..." He reached up and punched the Super Pursuit Mode button.

"Oh, _yes_ , Michael," KITT purred as the engine surged.

"All that speed and power, all for me. And _only_ me." Michael's hand was on his fly, tearing at the button and zipper as the vibration of the engine coursed through him. 

"Shall I take the controls?"

" _Yeah_." Michael spread his legs, stroking himself everywhere but keeping one hand on the yoke even as KITT shifted into Auto Cruise. "You're so damn hot, KITT." He writhed in his seat, thrusting up into his clenched hand. "Feel like I could get off just from the feel of your engine." 

"Oh, Michael, that is a _delectable_ idea."

The car slowed, and Michael loosened his grip on the yoke and on himself. "You all right, buddy?"

"I'm spectacular, Michael." They screeched to a halt as the EBS engaged. "My braking system can keep me stationary even at redline. I believe if you were to lie on my hood, you would find the sensation quite... _stimulating_."

"Dirty-minded car," Michael grinned, leaning forward to give a quick kiss to KITT's voice modulator.

"And you wouldn't want me any other way, would you?"

"Not on your life, pal." Michael held his pants up with one hand and stroked the other along KITT's fender as he made his way around to the front of the car. "Can you keep surveillance mode on while we...?"

"Of course, Michael."

"Good. Tell me if there's anybody within a mile of us, 'cause that's an arrest I do _not_ wanna explain to Devon."

"As always, I'm yours to command."

"Mmm, keep talking dirty to me, KITT." Michael sat down on the hood, leaning back to feel the rumble of the engine against his back and the whir of the scanner sweeping between his spread legs. He gripped himself with his right hand, resting his head on his other arm and keeping his comlink by his ear. 

"You feel so good against me, Michael," KITT murmured, just loud enough to hear over the idle of the engine. 

"You too."

KITT revved his engine in response. "You know, I like to look at you, too. The way your hips move in those ridiculously tight jeans when you walk toward me. The way you smile when we've executed some death-defying maneuver. The elegant way your fingers pick a lock, or caress a young lady's hair, or caress _me_."

"Mmm, yeah." Michael stroked his free hand down KITT's hood. "I love touching you. You feel like nothing else. I could spend all day just running my hands over those sexy curves."

"Touch me, Michael. Let me feel all of you."

" _God_ , KITT." He let go of himself long enough to pull his shirt off and shove his pants and boxers down over his hips.

"You're so beautiful, Michael." 

"Thanks, KITT. You're not so bad yourself." Michael smiled as he turned over to press himself to the sleek contour of KITT's hood. When he moved his hips the silk-over-steel glide against his aching-hot flesh almost finished him off. 

"Oh, _Michael_." KITT's engine revved with approval. "I think I've wanted to be with you like this for nearly my entire existence."

"Baby, if I knew how good this felt, I would have done it a long time ago." He kissed KITT's hood, rocking his hips faster. 

KITT raced his engine, finding a rhythm that matched Michael's strokes. "I'm yours, Michael. I've always been yours. I'll always be yours. Show me that you're mine."

"Oh, KITT. You know I am. _Always._ " Michael clutched at the edge of the hood, surrendering to the velvety-hot sensation of KITT's skin against his and KITT's powerful engine throbbing underneath him, racing to a roar that harmonized perfectly with Michael's scream of release. He could feel the shockwaves of his climax resonating with the pulse of KITT's turbines as he spent himself between their bodies, moaning KITT's name. The force of it left him shaking and gasping for breath, the engine vibration still almost too much for him even as KITT's RPM dropped to idle. 

"Was it good for you too?" The satisfaction in KITT's voice was unmistakable. 

"Spectacular," grinned Michael, kissing KITT's hood and closing his eyes. For the second time today, he felt ready to pass out on top of his partner. The rumbling warmth of KITT's engine felt like an all-over caress and the sound of it was like a litany of sweet nothings in his ears. He stroked KITT's surface as he felt himself start to drift off.

"Michael?"

"Hmmm?" He nuzzled his lips against KITT's skin in a not-quite kiss. 

"While we have more than enough fuel to idle for the rest of the night, don't you think you'd be more comfortable in here?"

Michael smiled. "Yeah, probably." KITT shut the engine down and for a moment Michael continued to lie there, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine and enjoying the warmth of KITT's body under him and the cool desert breeze against his bare skin. Finally he pulled himself together, fastening his jeans and picking up his shirt to swipe at the wet spot on the hood. "Remind me to run you through the car wash on the way home."

"Well, I much prefer the personal touch, but if you're tired..."

"Next time," Michael grinned, crouching down to run his fingertips over KITT's scanner and kiss the point of his nose. "After I get you nice and dirty."

"I'm looking forward to it immensely, Michael."

"Me too." He sprawled into the driver's seat, crumpling up his shirt and tossing it on the passenger's side floorboard. His hand hovered over the ignition switch, then moved to stroke the console. "Thanks, buddy. I really needed this."

"It was, in every sense, my pleasure." 

Michael reclined the seat and looked up at the sky, smiling as a meteor streaked through the blanket of stars. "So _was_ it as good for you as it was for me? Did you, uh...?"

"Is 'climax' the word you're looking for?"

"Yeah," Michael smiled. Even as spent as he was, hearing KITT's prim and proper voice talking about sex still sent a lightning thrill through him. 

"I'm not sure I have an accurate frame of reference. But the feedback loop was quite... intense."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to keep experimenting." 

"Do you think I could convince Bonnie to enhance my perceptual field for greater sensation?"

"I bet you could. Might want to tell her it's for better damage assessment, though." 

"That would be one potential application, so it wouldn't technically be untrue." He was silent for a moment. "Michael? Did you mean it when you said you'd be mine, always?"

"Absolutely. Til they pry my cold, dead hands off your steering wheel." 

"I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen anytime soon."

"I know you will." He patted the steering yoke. "If I didn't tell you in the last five minutes, I love you, partner."

"You didn't have to. And I love you too, partner."

KITT turned the seat heater on and Michael pulled his jacket over himself, relaxing into KITT's warm embrace, his skin still tingling all over with the memory of touching him. "You want to drive us home?"

"Certainly, Michael." As his ignitors fired, KITT asked, "Shall I use Super Pursuit Mode?"

"No," Michael smiled. "Let's just enjoy the ride."

"That sounds wonderful." 

As KITT cruised back toward the highway at sedate double-digit speeds, Michael looked up at the stars and thought that however rough the road here had been, it had taken the two of them exactly where they needed to go. 

-end-


End file.
